I've lost count of how many times I've read Angels in America. I saw a production in a church basement in Brooklyn Heights, and the HBO version twice. I played Harper in an acting class in high school, the scene in which Joe comes home from one of his walks, and she tells him she burned dinner and asks if he's a homo. If anyone ever said to me, Leigh, we know you haven't been in a play in five years, but you're our only hope for Harper, please let us know when you can make your snowsuit fitting?, I would probably jump up and down and become hysterical.
It's like singing hymns, reading plays you used to have memorized. The words just come back.